


It's a Little Worse Than Fate

by RenaRoo



Series: RvB Angst War [14]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Mercy Killing, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash has to live the next several years of his life after making an impossible choice. He wishes more than anything that things could have been different. </p><p>Until they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Little Worse Than Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



> secretlystephaniebrown Prompt: MTMTE AU. After killing Tucker to save him from a fate worse than death, Wash did not expect to find him again. And after watching Wash die, Tucker never expected to see him again either.
> 
> A/N: So is this just the start of you and Iz making me regret bringing you guys into gay robot hell or?? No seriously, I had a lot of fun with this prompt, thanks so much for sending it!!!

When Tucker had asked him to come along on the Peace Tour with him and Junior, Wash’s first thought was _not_ what an honor it was. It wasn’t even to begin silently freaking out about just _what_ that meant about how the two thought he fit in their lives (there was time for _that_ particular anxiety later). 

Agent Washington’s first thought when he was asked if he was going to be traveling across the galaxy at the mercy of the Covenant’s most lethal warrior class was, _Does Tucker even know what they did in the war?_

Because Washington _did._

He fought – and he knew that they were all soldiers, and _no one_ respected everything the Simulation Troopers had been through more than him at that point – but Wash had fought. And he had seen men and women he trained and ate with in the mess hall die in the most terrible and excruciating ways.

Today the Sangheilli bowed before their prophet and savior. Yesterday Wash watched as the kid from Melbourne standing next to him was ripped in half with the Sangheilli’s barehands.

In the unsettling years after the war, where mankind’s secret advancements had continuously proven to be their worst enemies, Wash wondered if his friends and Tucker had forgotten all sense of why projects like Freelancer were greenlit to begin with.

“Wash, _dude,_ are you going to come or not?” Tucker asked.

And Wash watched as that line of worry over Tucker’s brow betrayed his callous tone. There was a nervousness to the question he couldn’t hide – the way it’d probably actually break his heart to be told no.

Despite himself, Wash was weak. Despite himself, Wash couldn’t let people down anymore with the practiced cold logic he once thrived on as a Recovery Agent.

It was a bad idea all around. For many reasons. They hadn’t even discussed what _they_ were yet. 

“Yes,” Wash said instead.

Then he relished the gentle relief that took over Tucker at his answer, taking pride that it was joy Tucker had for _him_ and no one else at the time.

Wash had known it for a long time, but this move had cemented it. 

He was a fool.

* * *

For the first months of the tour, things were good. _Too_ good by Wash’s usual standards and he probably should have taken that as a warning since nothing good seemed to happen to him without a price.

Tucker might have asked him to be there, but Wash took it upon himself as a personal duty to act as Junior’s human bodyguard. 

“What, you don’t trust these guys who _legitimately worship the ground he walks on_ to do a good job?” Tucker asked, laughing as he laid back against the bed. 

Wash stood by awkwardly for a moment before busying himself with putting on his armor. He hated when Tucker was able to distract him from actual, serious priorities. “Isn’t the whole point of this tour that several fractions of their religion don’t accept your son as the religious leader yet? Isn’t there a huge threat of civil war among their species because of all this?” 

“So?” Tucker asked, brow arched. 

“ _So_ , despite any genuine good intentions, your current guards aren’t used to looking at their own species as the enemy,” Wash explained, looking at Tucker very seriously. “I am. I’m _very_ good at it by now, actually.”

There was a crinkle to Tucker’s nose that was that look he got when he was put off by Wash’s war talk and allusions. “I don’t like when you talk about them like that. They’re Junior’s people as much as we are.”

“And until this tour is over, not all of them see it that way,” Wash sighed. “Look, Tucker, it’s not like I’m trying to–”

They both sucked in a breath as the lights of the ship dimmed and a red pulse was sent across all of the room. A blaring signal went off, beginning as a low rumble and increasing to a screech. 

An alarm system.

“Get Junior,” Tucker said, leaping from the bed and going for his armor. 

“Get an escape pod,” Wash ordered as he immediately ran for the door. 

* * *

They hadn’t expected an assassin among their own guards. 

The Sangheilli and Tucker hadn’t. _Wash_ had and that was why he had memorized every inch of the ship, memorized every route from Junior’s room to the escape pods. Had forced himself to memorize every alien face of their crew. 

He might not have spoken their language well, but Wash knew enough to hear the betrayal in the other guards’ voices as the onslaught between them began. As they began to rip each other apart like–

Well, like Wash’s own troop so long ago.

It had been a bloodbath, but Wash shot his way through the attackers, grabbed Junior, and was heading toward the escape pods when they managed to trip him up. 

Junior squealed as they hit the ground, but Wash still managed to get to his feet and keep running. 

Tucker was on the other end of their journey, eyes wide and sword bloodied. 

“Get in!” he waved them over and Wash was quick to do so. 

“I’ve set some charges in Junior’s room. The real crew is mostly escaped, we’ll just need some distance and then I can keep these traitors from following up on their assassination attempt,” Wash informed Tucker as the doors slid closed behind Tucker. He waited for his partner’s nod and then he punched the launch button. 

It didn’t work.

“No, _NO!”_ Wash snarled. “It’s jammed on our side!”

“What do you mean it’s jammed!?” Tucker demanded. 

“I mean it’s not working,” Wash replied shortly, ignoring the way Junior was curled around his leg. He punched the console until it dented. “ _Goddammit!_ This is the last pod–”

Wash felt as Tucker brushed past him and Junior. The young hybrid let out a cry as Tucker raced through the door. 

“What?” Wash asked, stepping toward the door. “Tucker, wait! What’re you–”

“The release should still work from out here!” Tucker shouted.

Heart racing, Wash ran toward the door. “No! Tucker, you can’t push that from out there without–”

Before he could make it to the door, they slammed shut. Wash and Junior looked on in horror through the hatch window as Tucker smirked at them. There was a worried line across his brow that he couldn’t hide from Wash.

He was surrounded by the attacking Sangheilli as the escape pod was dropped, and something incoherent and rasping escaped Wash’s throat as he banged on the door uselessly. 

Then Junior tapped on his hip with something hard and cold, forcing Wash to look in horror as he saw that the child had the hilt to Tucker’s sword.

Tucker knew he wasn’t making it out of there. And Wash was going to be damned if he let Tucker’s choice mean he suffer for it.

Trembling, Wash pulled out the detonator from his suit and clicked the button. 

And even though he told himself that it’s what Tucker would have wanted – that it was far better – as he collapsed to his knees, he knew it wasn’t true. 

After all, he was still holding the trigger.

* * *

They were rescued not long after that by the True Believers. 

Not Tucker. Just Wash and Junior. 

And when they were found, Washington was different. He felt like half the man he had been before the escape pod’s doors closed but protected Junior with the strength and tirelessness of an entire squad. 

The tour was at an end, Junior and Wash sent to a safe hold on the mother planet with everything they could have wanted for provided. 

Everything except Tucker. 

When he wasn’t vigilant, when he wasn’t working himself to the bone protecting Junior with his every breath, Wash was on his back staring at the ceiling without rest. 

His finger clicked at a button that was no longer there. 

Junior knew after a few months to never dare use the sword around Wash.

He couldn’t handle seeing it activated by anyone that wasn’t Tucker, not even his son.

* * *

They began traveling around the planet itself, to various religious sites and congregations months after they moved to Sanghelios.

Wash didn’t go anywhere without Junior at his side and his primary firearm in his arms. He was whispered about by every friend or foe they met – human, alien, or otherwise. 

He didn’t care. 

Mostly, Wash couldn’t bring himself to care because along with Junior and his weapons, Wash didn’t take one step in any direction without a memory or a thought concerning Tucker.

Specifically, the more they dug into Junior’s religious significance, the more Wash thought of what Tucker had briefly said about the religion.

“I don’t know that much, but I remember Andy telling us that the aliens don’t think about life and death the way we do. I don’t know how much of it was horseshit, but they _did_ bring Captain Flowers back to life temporarily. Unless you’re going to tell me there’s a Freelancer drill for that and then that story goes the way of our Time Travel stories, huh?”

Among the breathtaking temples and the ancient languages in tongues that even Junior’s expanding vocabulary didn’t recognize, Wash thought about the aliens and death more than he ever cared to mention. 

No one asked him about Tucker’s demise. But maybe to the aliens, that wasn’t important. 

* * *

Junior grew to be fascinated with the lack of death’s direct address in his religion. Something Wash felt a certain weight of guilt toward considering his constant impassivity in Junior’s life. 

In the years that followed, Wash could feel himself grow colder, less supportive. 

He wasn’t being the father Junior needed. Namely because he _wasn’t_ a father. Tucker was.

Tucker was gone. And every time Wash closed his eyes he could hear the click of a button that was responsible for it all.

Even if it wasn’t.

He followed Junior tirelessly, fought and defended him constantly. 

And by the time Junior was a teenager, he had grown to reluctantly understand glyphs and honks nearly as well as the child.

Which was how he knew that Junior should not have been anywhere around the temple they were at when it all changed. 

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Wash warned, voice gravelly from little use over the years.

The child stared at him, then reached for a beam of energy that pulsed through the temple. 

In an instant, it all changed. 

In an instant, Tucker was standing before them again, looking just as weary and exhausted as Wash had felt. 

“Oh my god,” Wash whispered.

“You’re dead,” Tucker whispered back, just as haunted. “I don’t understand, you’re _both dead._ What happened?”

* * *

Tucker was back, he wasn’t dead. 

And it was the most hollow, ugly feeling Washington had had since the moment his thumb pressed that trigger. 

They could barely stand to be in the same room, even then left alone as Junior explained himself to his tutors, they were nearly holding their backs against opposite walls. 

That haunted, broken look Wash had seen in so many mirrors so many times was looking at him, but it was with Tucker’s aged face. He had tattoos that Tucker was not supposed to have, and scruff that didn’t sit right on his jaw unkempt as it was. 

He was a perversion to the dream Wash had been wishing for every night since that click of the button. And Wash hated him for that, just a little. For not being perfect and right and happy and safe. 

For being real.

Wash almost hated Tucker for it as much as he hated himself for hating it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Tucker glanced off, exhausted. “I watched you two die on that ship. I watched it happen and I’ve… I guess I’ve been looking for a meaning ever since then.”

 _I killed you,_ Wash didn’t say. 

 _The only meaning I’ve found since you died was remembering you so Junior wouldn’t be able to forget,_ he also didn’t say. 

“This isn’t going to work for either of us,” Wash said instead. 

And the look that Tucker gave him after those words left his lips told him that he also believed it was true. 

His thumb slipped over a button that wasn’t there. And nothing happened. And despite himself, Wash didn’t scream. 


End file.
